


And The World Keeps Spinning

by starwalker42



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Resolved Sexual Tension, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 12:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22849927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwalker42/pseuds/starwalker42
Summary: Mulder finally invites Scully on a date. A Valentine's date, to be exact. What's going to happen to their world once they name this thing between them?
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 27
Kudos: 187
Collections: X-Files Fluff Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Theatre_In_The_Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatre_In_The_Dark/gifts).



> This is for the X-Files Fluff Exchange by @xfilesfanficexchange, which was a huge leap out of my comfort zone but I’m so glad I signed up to! My prompt was “something fluffy around Mulder and Scully spending Valentines together either as a new couple or maybe not a couple yet” from @theatre_in_the_dark, and I really hope I did it justice and that you enjoy reading! Thank you to everyone involved for making such a fun challenge!
> 
> Part 2 will be explicit ;)

This is all my fault. Frohike would probably disagree, but he wouldn’t have been able to talk me into this if I hasn’t had those beers, so I only have myself to blame, really.

It was barely a week after New Year’s, and it shouldn’t have surprised me that with only one drink down I was already talking about that night; every morning since, I’d woken with the memory of Scully’s lips on mine, and despite my best intentions I’d found myself dreaming about it during the day, too.

Originally the guys had been ecstatic, but when it became apparent that was as far as we’d gone- and that we hadn’t discussed it since- praise quickly turned to exasperation. Frohike gave the most world-weary sigh I’ve ever heard, Langly started off on one of his lectures- _dude, are you serious, what the hell_ \- and even Byers looked unimpressed.

“You can’t kiss a lady when the world’s about to end and not take her out for dinner,” Frohike commented around his beer.

I can’t remember what exactly my excuse was- probably something about it not being the right time, about how she was my _partner_ , not just some random hookup, and that it wasn’t as easy as ‘taking her out for dinner’- but I don’t think they listened anyway.

“You can’t leave her hanging, dude.”

“I know you’re nervous, Mulder, but you should ask her.”

“Just take her to Casey’s-”

I shot down Frohike’s idea almost before it was out of his mouth. “My first date with Scully is _not_ going to be Casey’s.”

“Unless you get your head out of your ass I don’t think it’ll happen at all.” Langly drawled, and that did it.

“I’ll do it! I’m going to ask her out for Valentine’s.”

“Why the wait?”

In my mind, it was to leave enough time for this conversation to be forgotten and for the guys to never bring up the subject again. But of course, that didn’t happen, and last week they were the ones reminding me about what I’d said. I’d promised I’d ask her when we were out of town on this new case with the VCU.

I haven’t.

I’d meant to, several times, but the moment was never right: the words just hadn’t come out, or we’d been discussing the case, or been standing over a skinned corpse… you get the idea. So now we’re in the office, on the 13th February, having worked non-stop for seven days, and I’m trying to delay my inevitable exit my packing my bag as slowly as humanly possible while Scully finishes filling in her report. She always takes longer; she has to be precise and make sure everything’s filled in right, can’t just scribble stuff down like I can.

Normally I love that about her- today I just want her to hurry up so she can leave the office and I can stay down here in my self-created loneliness for the rest of my miserable life. The guys are going to have a field day when they find out about how badly this has gone.

“Penny for them.”

I glance up and meet Scully’s smiling eyes. She raises her eyebrow expectantly and I find myself unable to come up with a suitable lie. The words come out on top of each other.

“I was just wondering if you want to come over tomorrow night. For dinner.”

I have to look away, can’t stand to see the unavoidable pity and rejection in her face.

“Sure, sounds great.”

I almost feel the floor fall from under me. My cheeks are on fire as I feel my face break out into a smile I can’t stop.

“Uh, okay, cool.” My bag almost falls from my hand as I fumble with it. “See you at seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

Is that _my_ heart pounding?

xXx

Mulder grabs his coat, stops briefly in the doorway to run his hand across the back of his neck, and says to the floor, “See you tomorrow.”

I stop trying to decode his behaviour. It’s been a long week. “See you tomorrow.”

And then he’s gone.

Tomorrow is Monday, which would normally mean we’d be in each other’s company for a good ten hours or so in the office, but after this past week Skinner’s practically begged us to take a few days off so I’ve threatened Mulder that on pain of death he must not step foot in this building until Wednesday at the earliest. I know it might be just as hard to keep me away.

I’m looking forward to a few days off, of course I am- I haven’t had a bath in lord knows how long- but the longer I’m away from the office, the less I can relax. Okay, that’s not true- the longer I’m away from _Mulder_ would probably be a better way of putting it. As pathetic as it sounds, if I’m away from him for much longer than a day it just feels wrong. _I_ feel wrong. I’m sure some would call it dependency, and while I’m not sure about that I know that when I’m away from him, even if I know exactly where he is and what he’s doing, even if he’s only a phone call away, I’m lonely. I don’t know when but somewhere along the line it became clear that I’m happiest when I’m by his side; that I’m safer, more comfortable, and somehow more whole when I’m with him. I feel like myself.

Our classic method of hiding what I’m beginning to suspect is a mutual need for contact is anything can hide behind the safe veneer of a night in between friends, more often than not in the form of a takeaway and a terrible movie on Mulder’s couch. It’s happened enough times that at this point I’m expecting it at times like this, so I’m a little shocked that Mulder thinks it necessary to have to make pre-arranged plans. Surely he knows he could call me at 6 tomorrow night and I’d be over in half an hour?

I again remind myself to stop trying to work out my partner, and try to be content with the knowledge that I understand him a hell of a lot better than anyone else. The thought makes me smile as I grab my keys and leave the office.

It isn’t until I’m driving back home and see, of all things, the Victoria’s Secret window display, that I realise what day it is tomorrow. It’s not just Monday. It’s Valentine’s Day.

It’s fucking Valentine’s Day.

My first thought is to dismiss it as a coincidence: Mulder forgets even my birthday, and it’s been a long hard week, and if _I_ forgot then it’s likely he did too… but then I remember the way he couldn’t meet my eyes, the way his cheeks flushed, the relieved smile he gave when I said yes.

He knows what day tomorrow is.

And I’m pretty sure he’s asked me on a date.

And I’ve said yes.

Holy shit.

xXx

It’s not until the doors to the elevator close behind me that I allow myself to breathe.

Holy shit.

I just asked Scully out. On a date. A Valentine’s date. And she didn’t roll her eyes, or _oh brother_ me, or deck me one in the face. She said yes.

Holy _shit_!

I don’t know how to do this. How long has it been since I was on a date? Should I book a restaurant somewhere? Is it acceptable to get takeout? What the hell am I supposed to wear? By the time I’m at the garage I’ve managed to talk myself into a spiral of panic, and I’m very close to calling Scully and cancelling before I remember that ultimately, that’s who I’m doing this for. Scully.

I don’t have to dress up or create some fake-perfect evening for her, because that’s not our thing. And tomorrow is about _us_.

On my way back, I stop at the store and buy a bottle of wine- one of the expensive ones that Scully never admits she has at her place- and decide to risk forgoing takeout and buying ingredients in the hopes that I can still remember how to cook carbonara. I don’t know what I’d even begin to write in a card, so I don’t even glance at them, but at the flower display I have to stop. I’ve only ever bought Scully flowers when she was in hospital, but if there’s any time to break a tradition it’s now. Red roses are too forward, and too traditional, and everything else seems to be the same shade of pink that I know Scully will hate. I’m about to give up when I see the smaller bouquets at the front- well, one in particular. It’s a beautiful mix of what look like white roses and a whole mix of others that I can’t identify apart from their colour- blue. They’re almost exactly the same shade as Scully’s eyes, so close that it almost takes my breath away.

They’re the ones.

The cashier doesn’t seem surprised by my purchases- I assume she’s used to harried customers buying last minute Valentine’s gifts- and a few minutes later I’m back in my car and driving home. I feel my face breaking out into a ridiculous grin, and don’t try to contain it.

xXx

I’ve been on edge all day. I’ve tried going for a run, having a bath, reading some of my book, but I can’t relax. It’s now 4pm and I’m judging that to be a suitable time to start getting ready, especially because if I leave it any longer I think I might scream. Also I’m likely to need another three hours just to work out what the hell I’m going to wear, and how to come across as completely relaxed about this entire situation. How long has it been since I went on a proper date? How long since I’ve been on one and actually enjoyed it?

Ed Jerse comes to mind, but deep down I think I know that I didn’t really enjoy it, that what I enjoyed was the concept. Letting go and getting away from myself in the way that no one would expect from straight-laced Agent Scully. But even at the time, I wasn’t enjoying it. I remember closing my eyes and trying to imagine it was Mulder inside me, having to bite my tongue so I didn’t cry out his name. It occurs to me that if things go to plan tonight, I might actually end up in the place I’d wished for those years ago. Mulder and I might have sex tonight. Okay, now I _really_ need to go and have a shower. A cold one.

I can’t get the picture out of my mind, though. If I’m being honest, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind for a while now. And our kiss on New Year’s didn’t exactly help things in that regard. I’m pretty sure it’s no longer a question of if but when we cross that final line, and if it hadn’t been for Mulder’s injuries, I think we would’ve crossed it that very same night.

But maybe it’s better this way; at least now I can prepare somewhat. I straighten my hair for what must be the third time today, and try to work out how best to do my makeup without looking like I’ve been thinking about it too hard, which ultimately means that I redo it several times before I’m happy. I second guess myself on what to wear about a dozen times as well, going between completely casual (jeans and a t-shirt) to the frankly overdressed (an evening gown I’ve had for years and never worn), and everything in-between.

In the end I opt for a V-neck sweater that Melissa bought for me all those years ago, one that I’ve only worn a handful of times and only never out of the house. It’s gorgeous material, cosy and soft, but it was clearly either designed for someone with bigger breasts or with a bigger load of self confidence because on my chest it’s somewhat loose, and definitely not the kind of thing I’d normally wear. If it wasn’t that Melissa had bought it for me I think I would’ve got rid of it by now, but I’m glad I didn’t. I can’t wait to see Mulder’s face.

xXx

There’s a knock on the door ten minutes before seven. I’m not even surprised: it’s Scully, of course she’s early. In a way I’m glad, because dinner is almost ready and part of me had been dreading the point where minutes after minutes went by without her showing up until it became clear that she was never going to.

Now as I hear her knock on the door I allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief that all of this- making dinner, buying wine, cleaning the apartment, putting on one of my best shirts- wasn’t for nothing. An instant later panic hits again. Oh god. Scully’s here, which means this is actually happening. Oh god.

I realise I’ve been frozen in the kitchen when I hear another knock, slightly louder this time, and remember that even though Scully has a key and is more than willing to use it under normal circumstances, she’s likely to not be so keen right now. Okay. Okay, I can do this.

My hand trembles as I slide the bolt across and pull the door open. I’m apologising almost immediately, too anxious to let the words take their time.

“Hey, sorry, I heard you I just had to make sure the food wasn’t-” and then I actually look at her, and- “Wow.”

It’s not exactly a new thought, not particularly different to what usually goes through my mind when I look at her, but her appearance tonight is… _wow_. I can’t pinpoint what it is, exactly, and can only conclude it’s some magical combination of a slightly darker lipstick than usual, the smile she’s giving me, and the fact that I can see so many more inches of her beautiful skin than usual thanks to the cut of the sweater she’s wearing. How the hell does the sight of her _clavicle_ do these things to me?

Noticing the way Scully’s eyes glance up and down my body while I’m still stood in the doorway, I step back to allow her in and close the door behind her. My hands? Still shaking with the best of them.

“Can I take your coat?”

“Uh… yeah. Thanks.”

My hands don’t feel like they belong to me as I slide the jacket off of her, not missing the way she gasps when my fingers accidently brush the exposed skin of her collarbone. I hang it up and briefly turn my attention back to the stove, where the spaghetti is at risk of overflowing, and try to breathe. Scully is too quiet.

“I’ve got wine if you want?” I ask over my shoulder, but she’s gone. “Scully?”

“In here.” Her voice comes from somewhere else in the apartment, out of sight.

I turn down the stove and head through to the living room. She’s stood at my desk, and I immediately know what she’s found. I’d hoped I could at least get her to have a drink before she saw I’d bought her flowers.

“These are for me.” It’s not a question.

“Oh, actually they were for my other date, but she didn’t show,” I joke, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. Were they a mistake? And did I just call Scully my date-?

There’s an indecipherable expression on her face when she turns to face me. “No man’s ever bought me flowers before.”

 _Somehow I find that hard to believe_ doesn’t seem like the correct response, especially because I know my partner, and I know this isn’t how she messes with me. She’s being honest, and somehow without thinking I find myself doing the same.

“They reminded me of you.” She raises an eyebrow. “They’re the same blue as your eyes.”

I catch the way her cheeks flush before she glances away, and hear the quiet thank you she gives to the floor before she speaks up.

“You don’t drink wine, Mulder.”

I hear the pan bubbling from the kitchen again. “Yeah, well, you’d better not go teetotal on me now, Scully, because otherwise I’m going to have to start.”

She raises her eyes and gives a smirk. “I’ll get a glass.”

xXx

I don’t think I’ve ever been as surprised by Mulder as I have been tonight. He’s bought my favourite wine, he’s got me flowers- beautiful ones at that- he’s made dinner for us even though I was 90% sure he’d never cooked in his life, and now it appears he’s had time to stop off at Blockbuster to empty the romcom aisle.

“What’re we feeling?” He spreads the VHS cases across the coffee table and looks over to me expectantly. We’re almost touching on the couch.

My head is a little fuzzy with wine and the giddiness that comes with being too close to Mulder for too long, and rather than answering immediately I find myself just looking into his eyes for a long minute. I can feel it, the familiar magnetism between us, and for once I realise that nothing should be holding us back from giving in to it. I’m tipsy, and Mulder’s been drinking beer during dinner, so I know he’s not exactly sober either. We’re here, in private, together. It would be so easy to give in. So why don’t I? With liquid courage, I lean forwards and send a thanks to whoever created Valentine’s Day and gave me an excuse to press my lips against his.

Neither of us move, I don’t think we dare to, and the outcome isn’t much different to that first kiss on New Year’s Eve- a somewhat gentle, trepidatious kiss that feels like it lasts forever and still ends far too soon.

“You choose.” I manage as we disengage, noticing how much huskier my voice has become.

Mulder doesn’t even look, just grabs a tape at random and manages to get it into the player before returning to sit next to me. I press myself against his side and smile when I feel his arm come to wrap around my shoulders, like it belongs there. The first few beats of ‘Be My Baby’ play from the TV, and I hum in approval of Mulder’s choice.

“You know, I’ve never watched this film.” His voice is low and soft in my ear.

“What? It’s a classic American movie,” I whisper back.

“That’s what every woman says. It’s a chick flick.”

“Patrick Swayze’s not your type?”

He presses a quick kiss to my cheek as we settle back against the couch. “You know _exactly_ who my type is.”

You know what Mulder? I think I might be beginning to work it out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully continue their night. And we all know where it's going to end up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make this a three parter because I keep getting stuck and know I've promised an update for a while so didn't want to delay it any longer! Hopefully I'll be able to get a third part up soon, just know it's on the way! Thank you for reading, as ever! x

My arm is around Scully’s shoulders, she’s tucked nice and warm against my side, and it could just be the beer that I consumed earlier but even _Dirty Dancing_ isn’t enough to ruin what might be the most content I’ve ever felt.

I took a slight risk, assuming Scully would be into this kind of thing- the flowers, dinner, wine, the somewhat hackneyed stereotype of curling up on the couch to watch girlie films- but I’m beginning to think it was worth it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her laugh as much as she did during dinner, and now my heart isn’t racing as much I’m beginning to think that her shock about the flowers was the positive kind. As for the movie, clearly I don’t know Scully as well as I thought I did, because far from being insulted by the suggestion she genuinely seems to be enjoying this.

A few times I’ve noticed her mouthing lines next to me, to the point where I’m debating if this is her _Plan 9 From Outer Space_ equivalent. The thought makes me grin. Of all the facets of Scully I’ve had the honour of seeing over the years, I think this might be my favourite.

On screen, Jennifer Grey’s carrying a watermelon, though I’m not sure why, exactly- I haven’t really been paying attention to whatever the movie’s attempting to call a plot- and _Do You Love Me_ begins to play as she and her watermelon-toting friend enter a room housing what looks like an orgy masquerading as a dance party. There’s far too much bare skin and gyrating on the screen for my liking, and I feel my cock jump in my pants in an almost Pavlovian response, all too eager for the release that normally accompanies images like these. I try to force it to subside, because the last thing I need right now is for a badly timed hard on to ruin the night. I like to think I left that behind in my teenage years.

In an effort to calm things down I avert my eyes from the screen and return my attention to Scully instead- and realise I’ve made a terrible decision. She’s shifted slightly and the V of her sweater has fallen in just the right place to frame her cleavage, and I think it might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I don’t have time to fully appreciate it, though, before Scully gives what I can only describe as a quiet whimper.

I turn my attention to her face and realise something’s wrong. Her cheeks are flushed, and her chest is rising and falling far quicker than normal. It could be the wine, or it could be that she’s ill. How long does food poisoning take? She’s got her hands between her thighs, and all I can think is that she’s clenching them in pain and trying to hide them from me, trying to disguise her discomfort. I’m about to ask if she’s okay when she runs her tongue over her top lip, that move that always drives me crazy, and then… then she makes that noise again. But I’m ready for it this time, and I realise that it’s not a whimper of pain or discomfort at all, it’s…

Oh. _Oh._

Oh my God.

Scully is turned on.

Scully is sat on my couch, half pressed against me, smelling of vanilla and flowers and wine, with her hands between her thighs- and, I now notice, almost imperceptibly grinding against herself, _holy shit_ \- turned on from watching a bad 80s film. And, hopefully, her proximity to me.

I have no hope of controlling my dick anymore.

“Scully?”

xXx

“Scully?”

I’m ashamed to say that I’m so aroused that that one word from Mulder is almost enough to make me come right then and there. I don’t remember becoming this turned on, I don’t know how it happened, just know that I’ve been painfully aware of how wet I am since I shifted my legs a few minutes ago and felt the damp between my thighs.

Maybe it’s just being this close to him- like this, with his arm around me, I’m pressed against Mulder’s chest from my shoulder to my hip, and he’s so warm and smells so intensely of _him_ that I’m close to being overwhelmed. I can feel his breath tickling my hair, and if I turned my head even a little I’m sure my lips would be on his. Again.

And I’ve been trying to resist the urge, but it’s becoming impossible to do so when he’s this close and I’m this side of tipsy. And now he’s said my name, so I’m turning to look at him, and then _he’s_ kissing _me_ , his tongue sliding alongside mine, and I’ve promptly forgotten why I was so eager to resist this in the first place.

I shift position so rather than reclining against Mulder’s side and craning my neck up, I’m kneeling next to him on the couch. From here I can cup his face and gain better access to his mouth, bringing him closer until my nose is crushed against his cheek and our chests are pressed close, so close I can feel his heart thumping.

One of his warm, wide hands skims along my hip before tentatively curving around my waist. I wait for him to draw me closer, but he seems scared to, scared to even think about it.

I force myself to pull away from his mouth so I can whisper to him. “Mulder-”

“This okay?”

I nod, still only millimetres from his lips. God, his obliviousness is adorable. “More please.”

He hesitates a moment, then I feel his fingers tighten around my waist and his free hand tangle in my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. Some part of my brain must be working because I’m subconsciously aware of the bitter sting of beer on Mulder’s breath, the velvet feel of his bottom lip finally ( _finally_ ) under mine, the light pressure of his nails along my scalp- but the vast majority of my mind is far too focussed on other things. Embarrassingly primitive things, if I’m honest, like the heat of Mulder’s body, mirroring the heat building in my chest and between my legs, and the smell of him and the feel of his skin on mine, and how desperately I want- no, _need_ \- to be closer to him, I’m desperate to be close to him, I may never be close enough…

Mulder’s hand slides down so it’s resting on the curve of my back, just above my ass, and that only serves to ignite what’s been building in me. I lift my leg and straddle his thigh, which not only allows our torsos to be pressed flush together, giving me better access to his mouth, it also gives me something to grind down onto to try and relieve the ache at my centre.

I feel Mulder’s jeans swell with interest and I smirk against his mouth.

“That for me or Patrick Swayze?”

He chuckles and presses his leg up against me, making me gasp. “I could ask you the same thing.”

_It’s for you_ , I want to tell him, _it’s always for you_ , but it’s hard to talk when he moves his lips to my neck and kisses me like that. He runs a trail along my jaw up to my earlobe, laving it with a sudden gentleness that surprises me. I thought I’d made it clear I was okay with him taking the lead on this, but if he can’t take the hint…

I duck my head down to latch onto his pulse point, applying just enough suction to prompt a low moan from his lips. I lightly nip at him as he works to reciprocate, nudging incessantly at me until I allow him to expose my neck to his hungry mouth. His hands tighten around me, bringing me impossibly closer to the heat of his body and the hard length of him that’s getting more and more obvious against my leg.

God knows how wet I am right now. Every breath between us makes me tremble like a live wire, every touch is setting my skin ablaze. I thought that succumbing to this urge would help to calm things down but it’s only making them worse. I need him. I always need him, but right now I can feel the desire surging through every inch of my body, impossible to resist. I _need him_.

“Mulder please,” I whisper, desperate. “Touch me.”

xXx

When she says it like that I don’t really have a choice.

Not that I was hugely opposed to the idea to begin with, far from it, but I’m finding it hard enough to believe that I’m here, Scully in my arms and seemingly as eager as me, that I’m ready for one false move to bring this all crashing down. But the way she’s acting, there’s no such thing as a false move. I’ve been trying to be a gentleman, I really have, but she’s _on top of me_ and telling me _more_ and doing some beautifully unholy things to my neck, and I’m starting to believe that maybe she really does want this as much as I do.

I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch, that’s for sure.

My hand slides under her sweater, and by the way Scully gasps and arches against me I’m guessing that was a good idea. I’d never dream of calling her easy, but with the way she’s responding to everything I’m beginning to understand how she could be seen as such by a lesser man. I wonder if she’s always this responsive or if it’s because of me. I hardly dare to think that that might be the case. All I know is that _I’ve_ never been this turned on in my entire life, and that the only reason I am now is because it involves Scully.

Scully, who’s untucking my shirt and running her fingers across my stomach, and then unbuttoning my top buttons to expose my chest. When she presses her lips against the scar on my shoulder, I feel like I might pass out. And then I feel her hands slip lower, brushing over the front of my jeans, and I swear my heart actually does stop for a moment. Much longer and this is going to end embarrassingly quickly.

I move my hand a little higher, and have to bite back the urge to ask _is this okay_? and try to remember that she’ll let me know if something’s wrong, but I’m still beyond scared of ruining everything. How I’ve not already done something to mess this all up is beyond me-

“Mulder.”

“Sorry.” It leaves my mouth before I can even worry about what I might have done wrong.

“For what?” Her question leaves me stumped, because even _I_ don’t know what I’m apologising for. “What’s wrong? Do you… do you want to stop?”

“No. _No_ , I just…” I take a deep breath and try to pretend that we’re not possibly about to have this conversation right now, like this. I can already feel my cheeks burning, but the beer has loosened my tongue and I find myself talking before I can stop myself. “I’m scared. Of messing up.”

Truth be told, I may’ve already messed up. I get handed the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted and I go and ruin it by being too stuck in my own dark, critical thoughts. I wait for Scully to climb off me, to apologise and say she should get going and then leave. I wait for her to walk out the door and my life and run off, run far away. But she doesn’t.

She kisses me. It’s gentle, so gentle it’s hardly there, but the instant our lips touch I can feel her reassurance rushing into me, and I feel my body relax. She pulls back and strokes my hair, speaks softly.

“How could you mess up?”

“I… I want this to be perfect. I’m terrified I’m going to do something wrong and ruin everything.” I drop my eyes, angrily forcing back tears I hate myself for. “We only get one shot at this.”

“After all this time, I was hoping we’d get to do this more than once,” she jokes, her hands still in my hair.

I have to smile. “I mean, me too.”

Our foreheads touch as Scully brings my head to lean on hers. It’s such a familiar gesture, but in this new situation it’s taken on a new meaning. I feel closer to Scully than I’ve ever been right now, and I never want it to be over.

“Do you trust me?”

I almost laugh at her needing to ask, but it’s a serious question that deserves a serious answer.

“Always.”

“Give me your hand.”

Without pulling back, I blindly lace my left hand with her right, and she twists our fingers so rather than being palm to palm her hand is now pressed to the back of mine. She leads me down towards where she’s straddling my thigh while her other hand, the one in my hair, follows, briefly stopping at the button of her jeans to undo them.

I don’t think I’m breathing anymore.

She takes my hand down past her waistband, sliding between soft curls and hot skin on one side and silky fabric on the other. And then I’m there, at the centre of her, the centre of my universe, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt.

“Scully…” it comes out as little more than an exhale, breaking the previous silence.

“Do you feel that?” I’m assuming it’s a rhetorical question because there’s no way I can avoid feeling the wet heat of her clenching around my fingers. “This is what you do to me. You know why?”

I’m finding everything a little too much to process right now, gazing into Scully’s eyes while my fingers curl just inside of her- _fuck, I’m inside of her_ \- and all I can do is shake my head.

“Because it’s you. It’s my wonderful, incredible, intelligent partner. It’s _you_ , Mulder. And as long as it’s you, it’s perfect.”

“I…” That single word is all that comes out of my mouth. I have to swallow the lump in my throat and almost laugh at the ridiculousness of choking up while knuckle deep in the most important person in my world.

“Mulder.” She cups my face, runs her thumb along my cheek. “It’s you.”

xXx

I never imagined that this would be how this happened (but yes, I’ve imagined it… quite a few times)- I’ve imagined it here, on this couch, obviously, and I’ve imagined what his fingers would feel like inside of me (though I never imagined anything like this, not even close, _jesus **christ**_ ), and I’ve imagined… everything. Or so I thought. Because what I didn’t imagine is sitting in Mulder’s lap and exposing my body’s most precious secret to his warm, gentle hands, as he looks into my soul with those eyes shining in what might be happiness, but that I suspect are tears. Maybe a bit of both.

I’ve been captured in his eyes before, but not like this. This is somehow more raw than anything our bodies are doing, and I think I could get lost, drowning in his seas of dusty brown and deep green. I think maybe I could stay there forever.

I don’t know what he sees in mine, but I hope it’s the words I can’t bring myself to say just yet, the fact that I want to invite him into my soul the same way I’m inviting him into my body, the same way I’ve let him into my heart. Maybe he does, because I see it- that little smile that he does that makes my heart squeeze like it’s about to burst- and then he breaks away from my eyes and instead runs his gaze along his arm, all the way to where we’re joined.

“It’s you,” he whispers, that awestruck smile still on his face, like he’s just discovered the most incredible thing in the world. “This is you.”

And then he carefully pushes further into me, and I have to catch his shoulder for balance, because… holy shit, this is what Mulder feels like inside of me. This is what it feels like when he touches me.

I tilt his head up to mine: “This is _us_.”

His eyes seem to glisten again at that, and then he kisses me, slow and deep. Oh, his mouth. I’ve changed my mind, I could stay _here_ forever. Maybe I’ll just stay here, in this apartment with him, forever, and never leave.

I gasp as he pulls his fingers out of me, and I’m about to plead with him- _please Mulder, don’t tease me, I can’t last another moment without-_ when he reaches for the zipper of my jeans.

“I need more of you,” he explains, and I don’t need him to say anything else.

Together we slide off my jeans and I throw them away, paying no attention to where they land. I settle back into his lap and the feeling of his denim clad thigh rubbing through the thin fabric of my underwear force me to bite back a moan. And then he slides a hand back into me in one smooth motion, like he’s been doing it for years, not a few minutes, and I can’t contain the noise I make. Mulder grunts, and I feel his hips jerk underneath me in a desperate bid to get closer. I’ve seen Mulder hard before- it’s kind of difficult to _not_ notice- but never this close up. His jeans aren’t even that tight but he’s so hard that the outline of him is blatantly obvious, and I feel the familiar rush come though me that accompanies the knowledge that _I_ did this. I made a man this desperate.

But this isn’t any man, it’s Mulder, and that only makes it about 500 times more arousing.

I reach down and press gently against him, earning a low hiss and another hip jerk. His free hand flies up and firmly pulls my hand away, brings it up to cup his cheek instead.

“You need to stop that, or this isn’t going to last much longer,” he murmurs as I slip my hand up, sliding my fingers through his hair.

“That’s okay.” I lean in to kiss his forehead. “I won’t judge.”

“I’m not ending tonight by coming in my pants, Scully.”

I’m about to reply but his fingers crook just a little and I find myself suddenly lost for words as my body clenches instinctively around them. I’m not sure when my eyes closed but I force them open to watch Mulder’s face as he gazes back up at me.

“There?” His voice sends another shiver down my body, and all I can do is nod.

Once Mulder has a goal and a way to achieve it, there’s no stopping him. He knows what he needs to do, and he’s going to do it no matter what- and what’s become suddenly clear is that he’s got no goal right now other than making me come.

Inside me, his fingers rub and curl and brush just the perfect place over and over, until I’m trembling. Meanwhile his eyes remain resolutely fixed on mine, I’m sure reading every breath and flutter of my eyelashes as a step closer to his target. I need more, though. Just a little more.

“Mulder…”

I’m so quiet that it’s a wonder he hears, much less understands, but he’s my partner, so of course he does. His other hand briefly squeezes my breast, then runs down my body and pulls my underwear aside. He still doesn’t take his eyes off me, just feels and reads my face until he’s found the right spot. The little circles he starts up around my clit make me whimper, and coupled with the steady pump of his fingers inside of me it renders me completely out of control of my body.

I come the hardest I think I ever have without battery assistance, certainly the hardest I ever have with someone else. I almost cry out, it feels so good, my muscles shaking and breaths coming quick and heavy. Mulder rides it out with me until I’m finally over the other side, and he knows exactly when to stop and let me rest, even quivering with aftershocks as I am.

The hand that had clenched in his hair now wraps around his neck as I bonelessly slump against him, knowing that he’s got me. He’s breathing fast, too, as his arms slide out between us to pull me closer. As he rocks me, and I slowly come back to myself, I know this isn’t it. This is just the beginning of tonight.

Now it’s his turn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's night is coming to an end, and Mulder and Scully are taking their final jump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love I've received on this fic so far, it's been a labour of love and hate at the same time and I'm so happy to say it's finally done! I hope you have as good a Valentine's Day as Mulder and Scully ;) x

I think I’m dreaming. That or I’m dead, and I’ve somehow been granted access to heaven. Or it’s possible that I’m still trapped in an underground fungus and this is all a hallucination I’m being fed as it digests me.

Or maybe, just maybe, this is actually happening.

Maybe Scully is in my arms, still straddling my lap, and breathing heavily in my ear.

She’s resting her head on my shoulder and has one hand on my neck- the other lies limp between us, resting just next to mine. Mine, which was up until a few moments ago inside of her.

Jesus. I’ve been inside of Scully.

She stirs against me, her hand on my lap edging a little too close to the danger zone as she moves to take mine. My body jolts in response to her touch, and I will it to hold on just a little bit longer. What I said to Scully is true- I really, really, don’t want to end tonight by coming in my pants.

She clearly has other ideas, though- she’s reaching for the zipper to my jeans, seemingly intent on giving me a taste of my own medicine, right here right now. There is no way in hell I can survive a handjob right now- part of my wonders if I’ll ever be able to survive Scully’s hand on my cock- so I find myself trying to talk her out of it.

“Scully.”

Her eyes fly up to mine, so beautifully wide and eager that my chest constricts a little. How the hell did I get this lucky?

“I don’t know if I can do this right now.”

She blinks, then slowly removes her hand. The look in her eyes makes me realise I’ve made a mistake, and I quickly backtrack, stumbling over my words a little.

“I didn’t- I mean- if you touch me right now I don’t think I’ll last very long.”

Scully raises an eyebrow. “I told you I don’t mind. I mean it.”

“I know.” I squeeze her hand, then bring it to my mouth and press a kiss to her palm. “But I want… I want to do this with you. All of it. And I don’t think I can do that tonight if you keep touching me like that.”

There’s a moment of quiet, and I panic, worrying that I’ve crossed a line.

“I mean, only if you’re okay with that-”

“Mulder,” she laughs and cups my cheek. “Of course I am. I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember.”

The admission seems to stun us both. Never in all my wildest dreams did I imagine her saying _that_. I want to ask how far back the desire goes, but there’s time for that later, when we’re inevitably going to cuddle in bed and laugh at our past selves for being so oblivious. So instead I just bring my hand to the back of Scully’s head and bring my forehead to hers.

“Me too.” I confess inches from her lips.

She gives me a shy smile. “Then what’s stopping us?”

And the answer, right now, in this immediate moment, is nothing, as I hope I confirm by leaning forward and pressing my lips to hers. She melts against me, yielding to my tongue as it seeks hers, and I feel the world slowly fade away under the touch of her mouth. Before, with others, this has always scared me: the feeling of being cast adrift, thrown into the abyss, with no clear sense of up or down or if anyone would be there to catch me. But right now it feels like none of these things.

Right now I just feel free, like I’m floating, like Scully has taken everything that makes the universe so confusing and has pushed it away, leaving only her in its place. And the only emotion I feel right now is the complete opposite of fear.

I feel safe.

I feel loved.

She hasn’t said it, but she hasn’t had to; I’ve been inside her head, I’ve already heard all I need to. But now I can _feel_ it, too, and that is making it all the more real. Can she feel me telling her the same back?

She pulls back just as the words reach my lips, thankfully interrupting me before I can embarrass us both.

“How did you want to do this?”

Part of me wants to say right here, on this couch that I’ve began associating with her since the first night I woke up from a nightmare and could smell her scent on the cushions, the one we’ve both broken apart and been put back together on, but that’s not the right thing for our first time. I want to try and go slow, I want to make her feel safe and comfortable, and give her all the time and attention she deserves so neither of us can ever forget a single moment of tonight.

“Bedroom?” I hoarsely suggest. “I think if I have sex in front of a shirtless Patrick Swayze I might get a little confused.”

She smirks. “I’ve never seen your bedroom before.”

“How about we head over and I’ll give you the guided tour?”

I wiggle my eyebrows and she giggles. Dana Katherine Scully _giggles_ in my arms, still sat on my lap, and these two things combined do very little to help with my erection. In fact, if anything, I can feel my body start to tremble again, not used to this kind of teasing. Okay, bedroom it is. Right now.

“You’re going to have to move.” I murmur as she leans in to capture my mouth again, her arms tightening around my waist.

There is the tiniest of spaces between us when she pulls back to reply- I can feel her breath dancing across my lips.

“You want me in your bedroom, you carry me, G Man.”

She swoops in again for a kiss while my brain hurries to catch up with her thinking. I never had Scully down as a traditionalist- she hates when anyone makes comments about her height, or somehow implies she’s less capable because she’s a woman- but if that’s what she wants…

I wrap my arms around her and stand, feeling her legs grip my hips even as she gasps in surprise.

“This okay?”

As I raise my eyes from the floor to meet hers, I see a combination of shock and excitement.

“You always keep me guessing,” she murmurs as she tucks herself into my neck, holding on tight.

Her open mouth slides across my jugular and I take that as my answer. _Yes, this is more than okay. This is perfect._

xXx

How dare Mulder ask me if this okay. He’s carrying me to bed- _his bed, his bed, his bed_ \- with his arms wrapped around my waist, his strong, capable hands holding me steady as my legs grip around him, and I can feel him hard and hot even through his jeans. I have never been this turned on in my life, and Mulder is asking me if it’s okay.

I love him.

I think I’d marry him if he asked.

I want to kiss him again but if both of us get distracted I don’t think we’ll make it to the bedroom. Somehow I manage to get even wetter at the idea of Mulder just putting me down and just driving into me against the wall, all of his body pressed against me. As much as I want that to happen- and suspect that sooner or later it will- that’s not how I want our first time to go. Mulder and I aren’t exactly a traditional couple by any stretch of the imagination, but I think we deserve this.

As I’m thinking this, Mulder taps my hip, bringing me back to the present. I realise that like this, tucked against his neck and breathing in his scent, I’ve let my eyes drift shut; when I open them I realise we’re in his bedroom already, and he’s trying to get me to let go and sink to the floor.

I pull back and brush my nose against his before kissing him again. How have I gone so long without this? All I know is that I’m going to do my best to never be without it ever again.

His hands flex against my back as he turns us around and drops himself to the bed, so I’m back on his lap with my legs still wrapped around him as my tongue frantically seeks his. Blindly, I fumble to undo more of his buttons until I can run my hands down his chest all the way to his abs, which are tense and trembling against my touch. I want to laugh a little at his response, but then his hands are under my sweater again, big and warm against my spine, and I suddenly realise that I’m in no position to judge.

I can feel my skin sparking and my blood burning as he makes his way further up my back, until his fingertips are just brushing against my bra. Oh my god, Mulder’s going to take off my bra. Mulder has been inside of me, but for some reason the thought of him touching my bare breasts seems dirtier than that. It means he’s going to see me- to lean back and gaze with those eyes and that familiar set of his jaw, and if I’m lucky then he might taste me too, with that tongue and that beautiful lip…

“Scully,” he takes his perfect mouth from mine and laughs. “It’s been a while, and, ah-”

“You need a hand?”

I’ve already moved my hands so they’re next to his, which are currently fumbling with my bra clasp. I might arch a little too much against his chest as I quickly do the job for him, but he doesn’t seem to be complaining.

In fact, as I let the straps fall down my arms and slide myself out of my bra, I can hear his breathing shake. He can’t see anything new- my sweater is still covering everything- but I’m also suddenly aware of how exposed I am in front of him, only one layer of clothing separating my naked skin from his touch.

“I feel a little overdressed,” he confesses with a chuckle.

“We can change that.” I run my hands over his shoulders and feel my cheeks flush when he leans back and lets me pull the shirt off of him.

There’s something so erotic about this- crossing this last barrier with him, meeting each other’s eyes in the dim light, and touching warm, welcoming flesh for the first time in a way I’ve only dreamed of. He kisses me again, hands in my hair, and as his lips trace a delicate trail down to my clavicle I let myself moan his name. I want him to touch me everywhere, in every way, until there are no more barriers between us.

So I reach for the waistband of his jeans. This time he doesn’t protest.

This time he lifts his hips so I can strip him, which with me sat on his lap is no easy thing to do- after a few moments of awkward shuffling we both realise the best thing is for us both to stand up. We don’t talk about it, but the instant I climb off him we both focus on ourselves, him taking off his jeans as I pull my sweater over my head.

I’m almost scared to look- not at him, or at his body, but at his eyes that will tell me everything I want to know and more besides. Does he like what he sees? What if he’s looking at me and realising that I’m nothing like the other women he’s been with, that my breasts are small, and my legs are short, and that I’ve got so many scars that even I’ve lost count? I’m beginning to regret drinking wine, because I know it makes me emotional. If Mulder rejects me now, I think I might break down in tears.

“Scully…”

When I glance up, he’s looking at me the same way I’ve seen him look at any number of supernatural phenomena, childlike wonder in hazel eyes and an awestruck smile on his lips. Before it’s been endearing, has made me fall even more in love with him and his beautiful mind, and this time it does all that and more. He’s looking at _me._ He’s stunned by _me_. If there was any doubt left in my mind, it’s suddenly and swiftly evaporated.

He loves me.

He _wants_ me, in every way I want him. I feel tears welling up and hurriedly blink them back. I am not going to cry like this. I’m not. But then when I meet Mulder’s eyes again, they’re glimmering, too, even as he beams at me. I manage a nervous smile back.

“Don’t start, or you’ll set me off.”

If possible, his grin widens, although his eyes remain soft. “You’re so beautiful.”

I bite hard on my lip, but I think a tear escapes anyway.

“Hey.” He steps forward to brush it away, cupping my cheek and bringing my face back up to look at him. “Same rules, or this game isn’t fair.”

I laugh and place my hand over his. “Sorry.”

“Scully, you’re naked in front of me right now. You have nothing to apologise for.”

He kisses my forehead as I feel my face break out into a smile again, and then takes a step back and reclines himself on the bed, making all of my thoughts vanish. _Oh my god._

“And you want to talk about not playing fair?”

That smirk again, this time with a cheeky eyebrow raise. “Is there a problem, Agent Scully?”

Well, that’s being added to the list of unexpected things that turns me on. Mulder calling me ‘Agent’. Now I think about it, the majority of the list is some variation of Mulder doing something. I think his current expression might have to join them.

My feet carry me to the foot of the bed, so I’m standing between his legs as he lies back, propped up on his elbows. If he sat up a little his mouth would be level with my breasts. But instead he stays right there, not moving, and I realise suddenly why. He’s giving me control. He wants me to be comfortable, and he knows that right now the best way to do that is to let me call the shots. I want to kiss him and hold him and tell him how much his trust and love mean to me, but I know that right now is not the time. Afterwards, perhaps.

Right now I have one plan, and it involves a couple fewer pieces of clothing.

xXx

For a moment I’m worried I’ve pushed it too far, but when she walks to the end of the bed and meets my eyes I can see the trust there, and the silent agreement. She still wants this. And she wants to have a little fun with it.

“There’s a problem.” She answers my earlier question. “You’re still overdressed, _Agent Mulder_.”

Oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck_. My dick twitches within my boxers at her tone, and I silently curse myself for trying to get the one-up before. I already know that Scully’s more than capable of payback. She notices my body’s response, and my brain finally regains enough sense to remind me that what she said isn’t strictly fair.

“I think we’re about even, actually.” I look pointedly at where her body is still hidden from me, the thin line of black fabric clinging her hips a stark contrast to the pearl glow of her skin.

She just smiles. “The female breasts are a sexualised part of the body, Mulder. Some would say more so than the vulva.”

I can’t exactly argue with her point, especially because something about hearing the word _vulva_ from her lips seems to have taken all my words away. Even if I could speak, I don’t think I’d have a response- in a desperate attempt to avoid coming across as a chauvinistic stereotype, I’ve been trying not to stare, not to touch. Ever since she bared herself to me, I’ve felt my entire body shaking from the struggle of resisting, but I can feel my control eroding. She’s just… beautiful.

And now she’s climbing onto the bed, and crawling up my body, and without even thinking I’m grabbing her waist to pull her closer. We both gasp with the contact, and I take her open mouth with mine as I press her against my chest. She lets me chase her tongue with mine for a painfully short time, before pulling back away from my reach and sliding her hand down my side to play with my waistband.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”

“That sounds fair,” I concede.

She rolls off of me to pull her own underwear off as I kick my boxers down my legs. My cock is impossibly hard, and it’s already leaking; I wish I was surprised, but I know by now that if even _thinking_ about Scully is enough to get me excited, it’s a miracle this hasn’t already ended embarrassingly. There’s a soft sigh from next to me, and I turn my head just in time to see Scully’s shy smile. I feel my heart flush with sudden warmth at her expression- I hadn’t realised until now how nervous I was about this part, but that look evaporates any worry I’d had.

“Scully…”

She nods, immediately understanding and reciprocating, still with that smile on her lips. When she takes my hand and brings it towards her, I feel the last traces of anticipation disappear, replaced by an overwhelming sense of rightness. This is supposed to be happening. This is the only thing I need. This is perfect.

And… _oh_. When Scully guides my hand to rest on her stomach, it’s somehow even better. Over the years, her suits, her body, even her hair, have become harsher, sharper, with all straight lines with any trace of softness carefully masked. Occasionally she’s let me see past all of it- when she’s answered motel room doors with her hair still damp from a shower, or when we’ve ordered take out together and sat crossed legged on the floor of her apartment. I know her well enough to know that the version of her the rest of the world sees is nowhere near the version she lets me see, but I’m still stunned by the feel of her bare skin.

She’s the softest thing I’ve ever touched. 

Her fingers flex against mine as I hear her shaky exhale. I glance up at her, checking in, and she catches my eye.

“I’m okay. Just… don’t stop,” she breathes.

It’s only now that I notice the tremble in her body, feeling it against my palm and the energy radiating off of her. Oh god, are we going too fast?

“Are you sure? I-”

She manages a short laugh. “Mulder, if you don’t touch me right now I think I might die.”

Oh. _Oh._ I don’t think I’ve ever- not even during everything that’s happened tonight- actually thought about the fact that I turn Scully on. That she finds me as arousing as I do her. That all of this… is because of me. That she’s fighting to stay still because the need in her body is burning her up, the same way mine is.

I press my hand more firmly against her, and I’m rewarded with another quiet gasp. You don’t get a degree in psychology without learning about positive reinforcement, but this might be the first time I’ve realised how accurate of a theory it is- I want to touch my partner like this for the rest of my life, and all that’s triggered it is that tiny noise. And I already want to hear it again.

She’s given me permission to touch her, so I grant it to myself, too, and slide my hand up her body until I reach her breasts. At her nod, I cup one in my palm, letting my thumb rest over her areola. There it is again, that sound, and I decide to go one step further and gently squeeze her nipple between my thumb and first finger. 

This time there’s definitely more of a moan- it thrums against my open lips as I press them to the delicate column of her throat, followed by a low murmur of my last name. I squeeze a little harder as I work my way up to her mouth, and moan a little myself when I feel her hands find my chest and her nails beginning to lightly scrape over my abdomen.

When our lips meet, it’s fire, like she’s been craving this as much as I have. How the hell I went so many years without kissing her is beyond me, because currently I can’t imagine lasting longer than a few minutes without this. I wonder if she’ll let me kiss her at work. I wonder if we’ll even go back to work after this- right now I can’t think of a single reason not to spend the rest of my life just like this, my best friend warm and soft and pressed against me as she touches me all over with those careful physician’s hands, minutes stretching to hours as we learn the intricacies of each other’s bodies that we’ve kept from each other for so long.

Speaking of hands, I’ve been so lost in my own mind and our kiss that it’s only now that I realise Scully’s nearly touching my cock. I’m still on my side, and the hand that was tracing my abs is now wrapped around my hip, pulling me closer. I can feel the heat from her arm; only a fraction of an inch closer and she’d be touching me. I’m painfully aware that I can barely survive that contact right now, much less any kind of movement, but her hand is shaking with a need that I understand. My hands are drawn to her body at the best of times, to the way it grounds and comforts me, and now my senses are heightened to the point where every part of my skin not touching hers is aching for contact.

But she wants permission.

I take my hand from her breast and reach down to hers on my hip. The mirroring of earlier is not lost on me, but it makes sense, I think, for it to be this way- we’re equals in everything else, why not this? My own hand touches my cock first, but even that makes me grit my teeth. If I can’t deal with this, how am I going to- _oh, **fuck**_. Not well, apparently.

We both shudder as she wraps her hand around me, her grip gentle but firm, sensing the need for restraint. I bury my face in her hair, distantly aware of the soft pants escaping my lips as she explores. Her breaths are quiet but shaky next to my ear, and the sound does little to help with my erection. If she keeps this up, I might come.

“Mulder?” She whispers.

Her voice brings me back from whatever heaven I’ve been floating in, and I manage to make a noise in reply that’s somewhere between a gasp and a grunt.

“Can I be on top?”

Even if I wanted to, I’d be incapable of replying to her with anything other than a resounding _yes_. I try to disguise the urgency I feel- if she knew this was a way to get my agreement, I have no doubt she’d use it against me at every opportunity- but I don’t do a very good job. The words stumble out of my mouth, not helped at all by the feel of Scully’s hand still wrapped around me.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

I clench my mouth shut to stop myself from pleading aloud, but in my head all I’m saying is _please. Please, please, please._

xXx

I feel Mulder’s body wilt when I release my grip on his cock, and I watch as his hips pump the air in time with his staccato gasps of the painful pleasure of being so close, and yet denied. I know that feeling. My body burns with need for him, a need to be completely filled and surrounded by him, and our joint need is a living thing in the air around us. We both need this. Now.

My hands are shaking, but I force them to steady me as I bring myself to my knees and throw one leg across Mulder’s hips. His lips fall open with a silent moan, and his eyelashes flutter at the sensation, even as I feel his chest muscles tighten under my hands in an effort to control himself. I make a mental note of how beautiful he is like this, desperate and flushed and responding to my every touch, and how at some point in the near future I ought to properly test his willpower. Right now, though, I want to be nice to him, and give him a reward. He deserves it, after all this, we both do.

My hand slides up his chest to cup his cheek.

“Mulder.”

He opens his eyes and they widen, unabashedly taking me in. I feel a little self-conscious, sat on his lap like this with my body exposed to his searing gaze, but when his eyes find mine I forget to be nervous. His expression shows nothing but pure, unadulterated love, and that same look that he gave me earlier tonight- the one that makes me feel like the only thing in his world, like he’s just found the thing he’s been looking for all these years. The look that tells me this is my _best friend_. My partner. It’s Mulder.

I lean down and capture his lips with mine, sinking my teeth into his full lower lip as he moans in reply. His hands are in my hair, his fingers blindly threading and pulling as mine slide over his shoulders and down his arms. There’s an overload of sensation rushing to my brain from my nerve endings, so much I can’t focus on it for too long or I threaten to get carried away. Random bursts of pleasure rush past me: the wet heat of Mulder’s tongue, the beautiful ache in my lower body, the way the friction against his chest brings my nipples to attention, begging for relief.

I don’t want it to stop, but I need him inside me. I don’t think I can last another second without it.

So I reach between us and grip his cock again, pulling back less than an inch from his lips.

I check in, my voice catching in my throat. “Yes?”

Mulder’s hands have found their way to my waist, and he squeezes me tight as he nods. “Yes.”

I rest my forehead on his as together we guide myself down onto him, and I’m glad for the support because I feel my body shake as he pushes into me. He whimpers my name into the space between us, and I press my lips to his to try and mute a similar sound from myself. Because… _oh my God._ My mind briefly drifts to Ed Jerse again, the last man I had inside of me, and the difference to right now is astounding. I’m not fantasizing about Mulder anymore, he’s actually here, and this is better than any one of my fantasies.

I am wet, so wet, almost embarrassingly so, and Mulder slides all the way into me so easily it’s like he’s done it a thousand times. In this position I can control the speed, and while part of me wants to start riding him right away, I also want to take a moment for us to both adjust and feel this connection between our bodies. Of course, what I told Mulder earlier is true: we’ll do this again (many, many times if I have anything to say about it), but we only get one first time, and I want to remember every moment of it.

“Oh, Scully…” he whispers to me as we break apart from our kiss. His hands are still on my waist, and grip tight when he glances down at where we’re joined. “You feel so… so good.”

“So do you.”

My voice catches in my throat as I focus almost unconsciously on just _how good_ he feel inside of me, hot and hard and so deep inside that I’m struggling to think about anything else. Mulder pushes himself onto his elbows, then all the way up, shuffling us both backwards gently to prevent shifting too much inside of me until his back is against the headboard. Like this, he can pull my torso closer to his until I’m buried against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as his hands stroke over my spine.

We sit there for a long moment, breathing together and letting all of this sink in. _I’m having sex with my partner._ If you’d told me even a few days ago that this would be how I spent my Valentine’s night, I would’ve laughed. But it’s happening. It’s finally happening.

“Scully.” My name has never sounded so right on his lips. “I don’t want this to end.”

He leaves the truth, that we both need this to end, however good it feels, unsaid. He’s been so patient tonight, we’ve both been- hell, we’ve been patient for _years_ \- and we need it. It’s not going to take much, which is good because I feel about ready to explode, and I’ve no doubt Mulder feels the same. I need to move.

I grip his shoulders and push my body up before plunging back down onto him again. This time we both moan, loud enough that I imagine we might wake the neighbours. I don’t have the time or space in my mind to feel shy. It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m getting laid. Let them hear.

I go slow a few more times, then up the pace. Mulder’s head falls back with a groan, and I latch on to his exposed skin, possessed with a need to mark him as mine. One of his hands is back in my hair, stroking with a gentleness that’s in perfect contrast to the way his other palms my ass and thighs. I want to kiss him again. I want to kiss him as we come.

As if he’s read my mind, the moment I pull back from his neck Mulder is tilting his head back up to find mine, sliding his tongue into my mouth with a force that erases all other thought from my mind. The sensation in my body continues to wash over me, though, and soon I’m trembling from his touch and a desperate need to come. Mulder’s always been able to sense what I need, and this is no different- he pulls me impossibly closer to his body, so my breasts rub against his chest as his pelvic bone provides the same perfect pressure to my clit, and then I’m flying, no longer in control of the sounds escaping me.

I can feel Mulder still pumping inside of me, and before I come down and have the chance to double guess myself, I let the words that have been on the tip of my tongue all night finally slip free.

“I love you, Mulder.”

There’s a sudden rush of warmth as he empties himself into me, gasping my name, and as I go limp in his arms I hear him whisper the same three words against my jaw, followed by a series of kisses that end with a flick of his tongue against my earlobe. We’re both panting with exertion, and I tilt my head up to press a kiss to the hollow of his clavicle, tasting the salty tang of sweat along with an undertone of his natural musk. His scent has always driven me crazy, and even though I feel completely sated, part of me still wants to throw him down on the bed and do this all over again. I have doubt he’d let me, too.

But right now I feel content to sit here in his arms, trembling with aftershocks and letting the afterglow run through me. There’s going to be plenty of time for everything else. Speaking of…

“Mulder?”

He kisses my hair. “Yeah?”

“Next time, do you think we could skip the formalities?”

My heart runs warm with love as he laughs. “If you’re trying to tell me you don’t like my cooking, just say.”

“I love your cooking.” I pull back and meet his eyes. “And the flowers. And the fact that you sat through half of _Dirty Dancing_ with me even though I know you weren’t paying attention.” Here he looks a little guilty, and I smile. _Gotcha._ “But Mulder, you’re the best present I could’ve asked for. You’re the only one I need.”

His eyes shimmer in the dim light, and he leans in to kiss my forehead.

“Same here, partner.”


End file.
